


The Way Back

by HapaxLegomenon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cat Kuroo Tetsurou, Challenge: Sport Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2016, Cosplay, M/M, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapaxLegomenon/pseuds/HapaxLegomenon
Summary: The cat wasn’t a cat. It looked like a cat. It purred like a cat. But there was something about it, an intelligence, a certain warm friendliness that caused Kenma to turn around, pay attention, and notice.“Well that’s an interesting curse.”Or; "A Mutual Nyanderstanding"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fanwork was produced for the Sports Anime Shipping Olympics 2016 Main Round 2 with the theme Circuit, with a 3000 word/10 image limit.  
> Thank you to all of my dear teammates for their invaluable input, encouragements, and edits. 
> 
> Cosplay photos feature [Eth](https://www.instagram.com/zhuangban/) as Kuroo and [N](https://www.instagram.com/ratupetra/) as Kenma.

The cat wasn’t a cat. 

It looked like a cat. It purred like a cat. It was a little chubby, fluffy thing, with an upcurved tail and a round face, but the way it watched Kenma, as he passed, was distinctly non-feline. There was an intelligence to it, and a certain warm friendliness that glimmered around it like a fog and tasted salty on the back of his tongue. Kenma didn’t stop walking, and as he turned back to the road he said, in a carefully measured voice, “Well that’s an interesting curse.”

The cat’s tail shot straight up into the air, and it made a surprised _mrrow_ sound.

“I can help,” Kenma said, “if you want.” He’d done it before; as the local cursebreaker and resident witch, it was fairly expected of him, but he didn’t mind, really. He liked the challenge. After a brief hesitation, he heard the soft patter of pawsteps on the cracked concrete path, and he nearly tripped when the cat charged between his ankles and set to rubbing its face on his legs, purring loudly.

He clicked his tongue and nudged the cat gently away with his toe. 

Kenma passed under a sign that read “Qualitea Brews and Potions” in a simple, utilitarian font that belied the elegant craftsmanship. Kenma was quite fond of his sign, in fact, but he ignored the grand doors with their tinkling bells in favour of the simpler, aluminum-framed doors in the back. The cat followed at his heels.

“Wh --” a scratchy voice said behind him. 

Kenma tapped on a slowly-filling flask and watched the vapour within coalesce into a droplet of liquid and sublimate again. He also flipped a switch on an espresso machine, which hummed to life as he said, “My shop is warded against the magic of other sorcerers. Whatever the nature of the curse upon you, it won’t be effective here.”

There was a pregnant pause. Then --

“Am I wearing _clothes_?”

“There are also wards against indecency.”

Kuroo fidgeted with his suspenders and the buttons of his shirt. The magically-conjured shirt was a deep, vibrant red and he spent a moment reveling in the colour of it. And he almost fell over trying reflexively to scratch his ear with his foot before he realized what he was doing and sheepishly used his hand instead.

His human hand.

It had been such a long, long time since he was last human. He felt tall and powerful and -- pretty damn sexy, actually, when he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the window.

He smirked at the witch and struck what he assumed was a seductive pose. “Well, whatever could I possibly do to make this up to you? Perhaps --”

In a rush of vertigo, Kuroo found himself back in his feline shape, with an insistent lump in the back of his throat. His back immediately arched, and he hacked up a big, slimy furball on the witch’s polished black shoes. 

Well. That was certainly one way to make an impression. He started to curl his tail around his leg in shame, but with a pop and a stumble he was human once more.

“Indecency wards,” the witch reminded him tonelessly. And then his expression shifted to something sharp, and he said, “I need help in the café. You can repay your debt that way.”

Gods, he could still taste the furball. Disgusting. He licked his lips, nodded, and croaked, “I’ll do anything.”

The witch handed him a bright green drink and gestured at one of the long wooden tables, and Kuroo settled into what he later realized was only the first of many training sessions.

Who knew magical coffee could be so complicated.

“And for you!” Kuroo set the glasses down with a grin and a wink and a flourish. A faint flush crept onto the face of the girl he'd just served; Kenma tore his gaze away, reminding himself that he was working. He had to concentrate.

Still, it was difficult for him to not pay attention to Kuroo. Not when he could hear Kuroo cackle at a joke even from the other side of the room, or see him waving at a regular as he made his way to the back room. Kuroo popped back behind the bar for a moment, brushing his hand across Kenma’s back and telling him, “Hey, I’m gonna go grind some hazelnuts and check on the sage, mugwort, and… datura? The plants. Be right back.”

Kenma had been pleased to discover that Kuroo was surprisingly adept with the drinks and herbs, both magical and mundane, and he was a natural at handling even the most picky of customers. Everyone had taken to him immediately. Most of all Kenma, who knew very well why his stomach felt warm and his heart tightened when he watched Kuroo at work.

Kenma wasn't one to use words carelessly; his magic lay in potions and plants and symbolism. So rather than speak, he said it in quiet ways, with gentle bouquets of camellia and white anemone on the old wardrobe in Kuroo’s bedroom, with rice lily cooked into their meals, with cheeky sprigs of holly and tulips and carnations wound together in bright wreaths in the windows of their second-storey apartment.

Kuroo returned with the hazelnuts and a little pouch of macadamia nuts, too. He nudged Kenma’s hip with his own and said casually, “There ya go, busted a nut for you.”

There was a beat, during which Kuroo picked up a wet glass and started to dry it, and then he cracked and smirked and glanced sideways for Kenma’s reaction. Kenma played his part, rolling his eyes to hide his own warm, fond little smile.

Kuroo leaned his chin on Kenma’s shoulder and watched as he worked on the potion that would, hopefully, restore him back to full control over his shapeshifting. This involuntary stuff was terrible. He couldn’t wait.

“It’s gonna be great,” he said, continuing the thought out loud. Kenma, so used to this by now that he didn’t even flinch, just continued chopping roots and weighing out tiny increments of various powders. “Don’t get me wrong, being a cat is awesome, they have confidence like you wouldn’t believe and I can jump _so_ high, and just --” he flexed his fingers suddenly, but his nails didn’t sharpen into his long cat claws. “But man. I can’t want to get out of here and go see the world as a human again.”

Kenma went still against him. His face was entirely blank.

“Kenma?”

“Go take care of the herbs.”

“But I already --”

“Go.”

***

This was what Kenma did. He traded for help and when his assistants got what they needed, they moved on. It was his life.

He carefully crushed a dried datura flower in a mortar and ground it with anhydrous cobalt chloride. The potion fluxed a deep blue when he added the mixture, and he turned the heat up, watching it until the colour shimmered translucent. White flames flickered against the bottom of the flask.

Kuroo was different. He didn’t want Kuroo to go.

Having been mostly human, at least in the safety of Kenma’s shop, for several months now, Kuroo found himself changing back into the cat more frequently. When he had a choice, he really didn’t mind being a cat, not at all. Especially not when he could find Kenma as he sat on the steps leading up to his rooms, and curl up in his lap and nuzzle his hand until Kenma gave in and rubbed his ears.

Kuroo never could tell how Kenma felt about him. He kept such close control over his expressions, and chose his words so carefully. It was a little easier to guess as the cat, sometimes, when he could hear Kenma’s heartbeat and smell his emotions on his skin.

Today, Kenma smelled… apprehensive. Melancholy. Expectant. Kuroo licked his fingers, and twisted on his back, paws waving, but Kenma didn’t smile. Kuroo flopped out of Kenma’s lap and transformed. He put his arm around Kenma’s shoulder and Kenma leaned very slightly into him.

“What’s wrong?”

Kenma looked down, then away. “Nothing.” Then, “I have something to tell you.”

If Kuroo’d still had his cat ears, they would have perked up at that. “Oh?”

“Your potion will be ready tomorrow.”

Kuroo whooped and pumped his fist in the air. He squeezed Kenma tight against his side. "Dude. That's awesome. Thank you, man. Thank you, thank you." 

“Where are you going to go?” Kenma asked, voice muffled in Kuroo’s shirt.

“I don’t know! There’s so much I want to do! I’ve been dreaming about this for _years_.” He thought about going back to his hometown -- not that he had any family left, and for all he knew his friends had all moved on, but to have the _option_ of going back and finding out, after so long… it was intoxicating. He thought of all the places he wanted to go; back to the forest where he’d once met a rambunctious owl spirit, to finally keep an old promise. To see the ocean for the first time. He imagined going to see the giant murders screeching through the sky in the Crowspirit Badlands, the great mystical forests full of faeries and demons in Seijou, the obsidian fortresses and glass skyscrapers of Shiratorizawa -- the biggest, oldest city in the world.

He imagined going into a store to buy clothes and food for himself. Such a small thing, but something he wanted more than he could explain.

He saw himself there and then, in his mind’s eye, there was someone beside him. Someone he wanted to show the world _to_ and see everything _with_. “Come with me, Kenma.”

Kenma shook his head against Kuroo’s shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Kenma was quiet for a long moment, during which Kuroo tried fruitlessly to interpret his silence. Finally, he said, “I have too many responsibilities here.”

Kuroo clicked his tongue. “Kenma, you work harder than anyone else in this town, I think people will understand if you take a vacation. You deserve it.”

“I can’t.”

“But --”

Kenma stood abruptly, and Kuroo’s hand fell to his side, thunking against the landing. He turned and climbed the stairs without a word, leaving Kuroo behind. 

Kuroo stared into the dark, empty café, and wondered what he did wrong.

Things were tense, in the morning. Kenma could feel it in Kuroo’s aura, thick and heavy, and in his own emotions. He pushed down the petulant sadness with a frustrated effort, burying it under a facade of professionalism and magical theories and mentally running through the calculations and formulae of Kuroo’s potion one more time.

It was perfect. He knew it was. 

Kuroo was awake early, sitting in the kitchen with a guitar in his lap, quietly picking at the strings. He looked up when Kenma entered and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, but his mouth was tight and uncertain and the smile quickly slipped off.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Kenma turned and started walking down the stairs, to his workshop in the back of the café. He gestured over his shoulder, and Kuroo scrambled to follow. Kenma felt the excited spike in his aura and suppressed his own answering rush of sadness and preemptive loneliness. Control. He took a deep breath.

Control.

Kenma had decanted the potion into a tall glass the evening before, and its colour had stabilized to a rich indigo. It was a particularly lovely potion, he thought, shimmering in the glass like a tiny swirl of space, and Kenma took a last, long moment to appreciate what months of research and hard work had led him to. 

“It’s beautiful,” Kuroo said, in an uncharacteristically low, solemn voice. Kenma nodded.

Control.

Wordlessly, he handed Kuroo the glass, and Kuroo drank it without further ceremony. He winced a little -- “It tastes like perfume and vinegar, ick.”

And then, they both stood there, waiting.

Kuroo broke the silence first. “Sooo… did it work? I don’t feel any different.”

Kenma gestured to the back door. Kuroo gulped, and nodded, and stepped outside.

Nothing happened.

Kuroo’s face broke open like the sun, radiant with delight, and the sight of him took Kenma’s breath away. He yelled in excitement and threw his arms in the air, and fell on his back to stare up at the sky. He jumped up to run through the garden and touch the plants reverently, breathing in the spicy-sweet aroma of a witch’s herb collection, and then he ran full-speed back into Kenma’s workshop, sweeping him off his feet in a crushing hug. He could feel all of Kuroo against him, every lanky inch, and Kenma let out a shaky breath.

“Kenma!” Kuroo cried, breath gusting in Kenma’s ear. “ _Thank you_!”

Kenma nodded into his shoulder, heart too full for words. When he had collected himself a little, he managed to worm one arm out of Kuroo’s embrace to pat his back.

He wanted to throw up. His world felt off-kilter, literally and figuratively. Kuroo held him in the air, his feet dangling, and his mind, his heart, felt out of sync. Kuroo was going to leave and Kenma would be here.

Kuroo set him down, finally, the sunshine grin still stretched across his face. But it clouded slightly when he looked Kenma in the eye. Kenma didn’t know what he saw there ( _Control_ ) but Kuroo took an awkward step back, rubbed at his neck, and said, “I’ll, uh. Just go pack my things, then.”

Kuroo’s footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs. It sounded like rain, and waves, and the happy purr of a comfortable cat.

Kenma’s control burst. “Kuroo.”

The footsteps stopped. Then Kenma heard his own, softer, more hesitant, like shifting sand and the drip of an espresso machine. He stepped up close behind Kuroo, close enough to feel the rhythm of his breathing and the fainter, faster beat of his heart. Kuroo’s shirt was soft under his hand.

“Kuroo. Stay.”

Kenma’s hand burned against Kuroo’s back. The heat radiated outwards, across his shoulders, into his heart.

“I…” he swallowed. “I guess we should talk about this, huh? Let’s go upstairs.” He reached behind himself to take Kenma’s hand, and the warmth curled around his fingers. The pressure in his chest loosened. This felt right. 

He released Kenma’s hand and leaned against the rail overlooking the café, then reconsidered and slid down to sit against it. Kenma sat, too, almost close enough to touch but not quite.

“Okay.” Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, tucked his elbows around his knees. “Here’s the deal. I… I have to go. I can’t stay here, not when there’s so much I need to go do, and see. I was trapped for a long time, and, and I love it here.” He was struck with the sudden truth of that, sitting on the hardwood floors with the halogen lights around them and the smell of coffee beans and sage bittersweet in the air. It smelled like home.

“I love it here, but I need to go. I have promises to keep. You understand that, don’t you?” It was a plea, a supplication, and with it, Kuroo offered up his heart.

To his great relief, Kenma nodded. And giddy with the knowledge of understanding, he looked into Kenma’s eyes and said, with conviction, “I always keep my promises. Sometimes it takes a while, but I always keep a promise.” He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and raised one hand to let the fingers feather briefly across Kenma’s cheek.

“And I promise I’ll come back.”

Kenma smiled, and locked the promise away in his heart.

As soon as the bells above the door jingled, Kenma knew. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew what those bells meant. He drew his lips flat against his teeth, set them in a thin line. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath.  


Part of him knew it was foolish to have such an immediately hopeful reaction but that part of him was drowned out by the rush of adrenaline in his veins, by the pitter-patter of his heart. 

Kuroo had made a promise. 

Kenma opened his eyes and saw a familiar long, lanky shape -- backed by the sun and looking for all the world like a returning hero -- and his lips curved up in a happy smile.

Kuroo saw him looking and he put his hand to his face dramatically, his mouth dropping open.

“I found you!” he exclaimed and let out a loud, braying laugh. The sound of it sent a bolt of warmth right to Kenma’s heart.

***

_FIN_

***

**Author's Note:**

> Check out more of our cosplayers' creative pursuits -- [Eth's on Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally) and [N is an artist](https://www.facebook.com/ningdrawsthings/).
> 
> This fanwork placed 5th overall in MR2 voting.
> 
> Talk fandom to me on Twitter at [@paxlegomenon](https://twitter.com/@paxlegomenon).


End file.
